


ACT ONE: OFF

by bittersweethymns



Series: RECOMPENSE [1]
Category: OFF (Game)
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Batter Is Furiously Loyal But Isn't Afraid To Sass The Puppeteer, Character Study, Everyone Has A Grey Morality, Good Thing She Knows How To Throw It Right Back, Inspiration From CONFINIUM, Inspiration From Continue/Stop/Rise, Inspiration From cuuu-tan's Artwork Animations and Upcoming OFF Series, Inspiration From sanatorium-industries' OFF Fanart, Named Puppeteer, Obligatory Biblical References, Past Tense, Puppeteer Has A Background and Appearance, Puppeteer Is An In-Game Entity, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:22:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersweethymns/pseuds/bittersweethymns
Summary: From the heavens, The Puppeteer fell from the hands of her creators into an empty void known only as The Nothingness. Through the words of The Narrator, she was assigned to a being called The Batter.As his puppeteer, it is her sacred duty to guide him during his holy mission. After all, this was exactly what she was made for; this heavenly, divine purpose.Her sole reason for existence.In other words, bear witness to the story of OFF as recounted through the memories of the world's unwitting devastator, The Player, during RECOMPENSE's first act.
Relationships: Sucre | Sugar/Zacharie, The Batter/The Player, The Batter/Vader Eloha | The Queen
Series: RECOMPENSE [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786756
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	ACT ONE: OFF

**Author's Note:**

> AN: As with all OFF fanworks, RECOMPENSE will be compiled with my own interpretations on the events of the game, along with some artistic liberties I may or may not be taking along the way. RECOMPENSE is inspired by various fangames, fanart, and fanfictions made by the wonderfully creative community of OFF, and I probably wouldn't be writing this if it wasn't for such a dedicated fanbase to keep me engaged even after all this time. 
> 
> As for how the abilities of The Puppeteer are going to work, I've been heavily inspired by Undertale's way of dealing with Save and Reset Mechanics, and who has control of said abilities at whatever point in time. I think this will fit in just nicely seeing as OFF did somewhat influence Undertale in certain ways. The rest I had to figure out on my own which luckily wasn't too hard since I've had this idea for quite a while now.
> 
> Without further ado, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading!

_“The stars are falling, and so is this kingdom.”_

~The Frog King, CONFINIUM

* * *

Her birth was a blinding, burning pain.

It shined with the light of a thousand suns, and it burned with the wrath of a thousand angels. Too young and too new to beg for help or to be put out of her misery, she could only scream, cry, and then scream some more as she writhed helplessly within the grasp of her creators.

Try as they might, they could not relieve her of the pain. They could only wait for it to subside.

Eventually, it did, and her mind had flooded with a thankful relief as it swiftly tried to forget the agony that had crippled her entire being mere moments ago. Regardless of her mind's efforts, it could not sweep away the reminder of such a great pain—not when it was imprinted onto every nerve within her body.

Sometimes, she swore she still felt the fire lingering on her skin, grazing the bones underneath as it dared to turn her to ash.

On her birthday, she learned that life was about endurance, and that one must endure suffering in order to live. To live was to suffer. It was a cruel fact.

However, she figured that there must be reason for this willful suffering.

Something that makes someone want to continue.

So, now old enough to speak and with a heart full of hope, she went to her creators and she asked, “What is my purpose?”

“Your purpose is to bring purity to a dying land,” They responded. “We will soon prepare you for such a task.”

“But, what is purity?” She asked, her youthful face twisted with confusion.

“The end of suffering.” Her creators answered.

Her mind pondered on this for a moment. Purity to a dying land? Was death not already the end of suffering?

Could one possibly live without having to suffer?

For some reason, she smiled at the thought. This knowledge implied that life didn't have to be about suffering. She could free these people from their pain, and they could go on to live happily with their lives.

“Alright,” She replied cheerily. “I'll try my best to bring purity to this place that you speak of.”

“Your optimistic attitude pleases us, dear Puppeteer,” Her brows furrowed at the strange title they've always referred to her by, but she took it with pride nonetheless. “But you cannot complete this task alone.”

She tilted her head to the side inquisitively. “Why not?”

“You do not have the ability to purify. Only control,” They informed. “You are also considerably more fragile than the one you are intended to aid. If you were to go out on your own, you would surely be hurt. Such a thing should not be allowed to happen to a being as pure as you.”

“If I am pure, then why can't I purify?”

“Because, you were not made for that purpose. Purification is a very diligent task, Puppeteer. It not only requires strength, but it requires discipline. Strategy, so to speak,” Though her questions were many, they always answered her patiently. She was their child, after all. “Think of it this way: A Purifier is considered to be a holy prophet of sorts, and you shall be their guiding angel. Just as they protect you, you shall protect them. Without guidance and a watchful eye, then they will surely fail in their task. They will either die, or they will be lost.

“However, being attached to you,” One of her creators took a gentle hold of her hand—small and nimble it was—delicately coaxing one of the amber strings out from the skin of her wrist with two enormous fingers. “They will not be lost, nor will they die. Your life is endless, lest you decide to quit on your own accord, and you have a point of view that they do not. You can see their world in a more… removed way. You're able to think outside of the box. You have a deeper understanding as to why things work the way they do.”

She looked puzzled for a moment, looking up questioningly to the giant hands that were her creators. “Deeper understanding…?”

“Yes, dearest Puppeteer. After all, you understand the... inner-workings of the world around you, yes?”

After hearing their explanation, she simply nodded her head understandingly. It was her place to know such things—about coding, and files, and prescripted events. That was just how this place worked, it seemed.

“…Has my partner already been decided for me?” She asked a moment later.

“Yes...”

A glimmer of excitement sparkled in her eyes at their answer.

“But you are not ready yet.”

The glimmer flickered out instantaneously.

She frowned at their statement. Not ready? What did they mean by that?

“You may know about the inner-workings of this universe; this file,” They began. “But you know nothing about puppeteering, nor are you familiarized with the world your puppet occupies. You know nothing of it's history, nor it's concepts. We will teach you what you need to know through the forms of media that this world has made in it's past.”

“When will I know I'm ready?”

“You will know when you are no longer here.”

The girl frowned once again at their words, stomach roiling nervously at the new information. Turning from her creators, she simply accepted their cryptic words. There was no getting them to tell her what they didn't want to tell. She knew that well enough.

The next day after The Puppeteer had sought out her answers (though she was left with even more questions), they did as they promised—teaching her in the ways of puppeteering and offering her knowledges of the mysterious world that haunted her thoughts.

As she grew, she became more impatient; more restless as the desire to be free from the grip of her creators manifested. However, she kept calm and collected, working diligently as she carried out the holy will of her superiors. Then, at the end of the day, she'd retire to her room—falling asleep only to wake up and repeat the same monotonous tasks over and over again to perfection. If she faltered even once, then it would be back to day one.

Like a hellish nightmare, the repetitive nature of her existence had followed her into her dreams. Every night since the day she was born, her dreams were haunted by cold white rooms where people would roam as they donned white uniforms and flimsy gowns. Sometimes, she heard the laughter of children, sometimes she heard them coughing their lungs out, sometimes she heard them calling out to her by a name she's never had.

Nonetheless, that name felt familiar, and she felt an ache in her heart when their small voices called out to her—pleading for attention and assistance. She wanted to take that name and sew it into her very being. Drown it in her soul, and own it as if it were her own.

That name was like her home and she wanted to return to it, but she didn't know how she could return to something that's never been.

Though the events of her dreams may have varied in slight little ways, one thing always remained the same, and that was the way the dreams ended.

A red hot light—a wall of fire—far away in the distance from the view of a window. No matter how far it was, it always reached her—turning her flesh and bones to cinder and ash.

And all she could do was smile defeatedly as her tears boiled into the skin of her cheeks.

It was the same fire that encompassed her in birth. She recognized it from the way it made her nerves scream in that same agonizing anguish.

She'd always wake up in a cold sweat afterwards, but somehow she always fell back into Hypnos' grip—back into the dark abyss that was her mind, body, and soul.

And soon enough, everything was white once again.

She hated it.

* * *

Years later, a blinding light shot through the dark of The Nothingness, though nobody had seen it as everyone was too busy toiling away in their work within The Zones that dotted across the void.

None, except those who lied within the dark—unseen, but not unheard as their murmurs haunted the pitch black emptiness.

The light landed far away from the remaining populace of The Nothingness, and though it landed with a mighty crash—making even the whispers of the void quake beneath it—none had felt it.

None, except one—a lost soul waiting within the black; waiting for a sign from God; waiting for a seraph to land from heaven above.

What a lost world it truly was, if none within it could bear witness to a felled star. By the end of this week, the kingdom was surely going to fall.

It would only take seven days to take away the seven wonders of God.

Yet, the soul within the depths was not happy—no, rather somber. Perhaps anxious.

But, he'd made his choice a long time ago. Duty was calling for him to fulfill the role he'd been given, a prayer that only the good creators could answer.

A prayer that had gone ignored for far too long.

His calling came in the form of radiant, saffron strings, gently flowing down to him from the surface of the Nothingness above. As they caressed his soul, weaving and intertwining into his spirit, he could only feel one thing—an indescribable enlightenment; a heightened sense of awakening he'd never thought he'd feel.

An inspiration, an aura, an indescribable colour.

An utter sense of clearness wiping away all doubt from his mind like the cleansing biblical flood as the Light of God himself seemed to fill his veins.

So, this was purity…

**P u r i f i c a t i o n I n P r o g r e s s .**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is always welcome! If you see any typos, feel free to point them out in the comments!


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